


one more time

by emmdies



Series: Affection [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Tension, Awkwardness, Fluff, Kissing, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romance, lame holiday names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-19 00:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29866461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmdies/pseuds/emmdies
Summary: Reader thought gifting Rex a wrist-chrono before a battle would be a nice gesture he would appreciate. Instead, he ends up avoiding the reader for the entirety of the trip back to Coruscant. And this is the story of how reader's dumb idea triggered a series of events that will end with them confessing their feelings for him. More or less.Rex x admiral!Reader
Relationships: CT-7567 | Rex & Reader, CT-7567 | Rex/Original Character(s), CT-7567 | Rex/Reader
Series: Affection [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980983
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	one more time

> _"He had the awkward tenderness of someone who has never been loved and is forced to improvise."_

Isabel Allende

An icy shiver ran up your spine as you glanced out the viewport. You were sitting in your office aboard your ship, having just turned around to take your mind off your responsibilities for a few minutes and sip your caf in peace. But the image — that of the lush planet you were stationed above — triggered a flashback you had been trying to fend off these past days. Only it wasn’t a visual flashback, you realized. It was a sentiment that you remembered vividly from when you were a child and your parents had gifted you a trip to Coruscant for Winter Fete.

You remembered the excitement of seeing your home planet from outer space. Your first ever interstellar trip — and to Coruscant, of all places. The festivities, the Winter Fete spirit, they were perhaps still present on Coruscant and on your home planet, but not there. Not in the coolness of space and the warship you commanded. Not among the lifeless bodies you had to wander through only a few days earlier — the bodies recovered from the battle. The bodies someone would have to deliver to worried families.

That cheerfulness now only lived in your memory. You could hardly remember the last Winter Fete you had spent with your family. Or any such holiday, for that matter. But what was easy to recall was the warm feeling you experienced every time you gifted things. The search for the perfect match, the smile on people’s faces as they realize you know them better than they expected. It had always brought you joy to make presents.

But this chain of thoughts now brought back another memory, albeit an awkward one that you wouldn’t admit was slightly painful as well. A recent one. At the start of this campaign, you had gifted Rex a military-style, top-of-the-line wrist chrono, which he had been reluctant to accept at first. After a few jokes on how this could be considered a military offense, and quite some heavy amount of polite convincing, he had eventually taken it and you had even noticed him wearing it later. It warmed your heart. And for a short period of time, you had gotten the chance to relish in the sensation once again. But only for a short period of time.

Because half a day later he had started to avoid you like you’d just been exposed to the Brainworm Rot.

It wasn’t as obvious at first — turning corners the moment you sighted him, pretending to look the other way when you passed by — but soon you just had to admit it to yourself when you spotted him turning one-eighty degrees only to disappear when he must have realized he was walking towards you.

You stared at the darkness of space, lost in thought and bordering on the line of anxiety. There were no answers coming from the darkness, only questions. Had he found out you had re-gifted it? Your mother had originally bought it for you as a Winter Fete present, but you liked your older one better and considered motivation before a battle was a decent enough excuse to offer a present to your favorite Captain. He surely couldn’t blame you for it though, could he? You barely had time to finish your cups of caf most days; how could you possibly find the time to go gift-shopping?

Then again, perhaps he concluded by himself that the gesture was offensive. But back when you gave it to him, he hadn’t seemed the least upset about it. He had even smiled and blushed a little. And if someone had the guts to call you out on your bantha-shit, it was Rex. It was one of the things you valued most about your friendship. You always talked freely, and he would never beat around the bush or keep his opinions for himself, even if they went against yours. Besides that, he always delivered contradictions in such a polite manner that you recognized he had your best interest at heart.

Your thoughts spiraled, and you bore a heavy heart with guilt for putting him in such a delicate position. You had to apologize. But in order to do that, you needed to find him and… not let him escape this time.

* * *

On their way to the mess hall, Rex had been called out at least three times by Fives and Echo for constantly scanning his surroundings. He had brushed it off by telling them he was preoccupied looking for General Skywalker in case he passed by, so they could have a talk about some mission he wouldn’t elaborate on.

Fives decided to push on and jokingly asked, “You mean the mission in which you got that chrono?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, Captain. That’s quite a fancy one. I didn’t know you had your eye on the latest tech,” Echo chimed in before he could react.

Rex was now even tenser than before, but he played stupid. “Latest tech? This?” He brought it to his face to pretend to examine it better. “I had no idea.”

“So where _did_ you get it from?” Fives insisted.

Million excuses ran through his mind, and he pretended to study the chrono for a few seconds more to get his thoughts in order. But he settled on the lamest one. “One of the locals gave it to me before the battle. As thanks for showing up, I suppose. I couldn’t really understand the language.”

“Just in time for _Affection Day_ ,” Echo teased, and it appeared as if he was twisting the knife. As if he _knew_.

The idea that you had offered him a gift had been enough to make Rex’s knees weak that day. But after you had left, and he could freely relish in the feeling, a troubling notion had snuck into his mind. He had nothing to give you back. And worse, after realizing that it had been an Affection Day gift, he had done some research to find out what the holiday really meant. That way, he found out it was similar to the Winter Fete season, but mainly practiced between lovers, sometimes really close friends — people exchanged gifts.

Exchanged.

At first, he had thought he would be able to come up with something. At least something symbolic. But he ended up dismissing every idea that popped up, only to end up now, in the last few days before returning to Coruscant, with nothing. He wouldn’t have let that affect him as much if it didn’t draw other, more depressing conclusions he didn’t want to think of at that moment.

Shortly after the three of them found a place to sit and eat in the mess hall, he inwardly cursed.

“I was planning to show you the new weapon upgrades we’re getting, boys. But I forgot my datapad in the room,” he muttered. “I’ll go get it. Hold on.”

* * *

Rex wouldn’t have the time to register what was happening. As the lights turned on in the barrack, the door shut behind him and there you were — standing next to his bed with his datapad in hand. He looked around. But you were alone.

“I suppose this is what you’re looking for, hm?” you asked, handing him the datapad. He stared at it as if not fully believing it was his. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m sorry. I only want to talk.”

You did nothing to hide hurt in your voice. He took the datapad from your hand and placed it on the side table next to his bunk bed. “You can tell me anything,” he tried to say in a comforting voice, but the guilt slit through.

“Well, to be fair, I am here to listen. I want you to do the talking.”

He paused, but you had the feeling he knew exactly why you were there, and he was trying to waste time. “What about?”

“You’ve been avoiding me. Tell me it’s not just my imagination.”

He feigned confusion. “It is. I guess… we’ve both been quite busy, haven’t we?”

“Captain.” You held your gaze, although he looked away for a second. “You know you can speak freely with me. It’s about the gift, isn’t it? I’m sorry if it offended you or made you uncomfortable, I was only—”

“You didn’t,” he interrupted you, eager to deny it. You could see on his face that he had lowered his defenses. But he wouldn’t crack just yet.

“Then what is it about?”

He shrugged. “I told you. We’ve just been off-sync, I suppose.”

“Yesterday you started walking in the opposite direction as soon as you noticed me.”

“I’d forgotten something in the briefing room. I don’t even recall seeing you yesterday.”

“Like you forgot your datapad in one of the training rooms? You’re distracted. What’s it about then, if it’s not about the gift?”

“I appreciated your gift, Admiral. It’s just that…” he trailed off, but you decided to give him time to find his words. You’d sit there in awkward silence for an entire hour if you had to. “I have nothing to give back.”

You frowned and tilted your head. “Give back? What for?”

Rex brought his hands together, struggling to make the words leave his mouth. “For… Affection Day. Isn’t that the custom? Exchanging gifts?”

You froze, your mouth hanging as you rewinded the past couple of dates. You hadn’t thought of that holiday since you were in middle school and forced to exchange gifts with a random classmate. The timing of your gift had been so poor — no wonder he was avoiding you all through the ship. You panicked.

“ _What_ day?” you said, your voice in a higher pitch than usual, then laughed nervously. “I gave it to you as a simple gift from one friend to another. I didn’t take you for someone to care when such a holiday was around.”

He shrugged. “Someone mentioned it a few days before, and I suppose it stuck with me. Still, you made time to get me a gift, while I can’t even think of something you could possibly want of what I can offer.”

You knew exactly what it was, but you also knew better than to throw it in the conversation like that. Instead, you threw in a little sincerity. “I re-gifted it.” His head perked up. “My mother gave it to me a few months ago during Winter Fete. I liked my old one better. I thought you would enjoy this one.”

“I did— I am! But…”

You went on, seeing he didn’t look so relaxed or even convinced, “I did not give it to you expecting something in return, or because of some special occasion. It was just a sympathetic gesture I thought I might as well do for a friend. I’m sorry for the confusion — I shouldn’t have put you into this situation.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Admiral,” he said, but his voice sounded a little more formal than before. As if he had switched back to his default military tone. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have handled it this way.”

“I’ll accept your apology if you accept mine,” you teased.

He smiled.

* * *

One day after the gift fiasco, you finally reached Coruscant, and it had been the last time you had seen each other. You both had a week of leave to look forward to, but as you bid your farewells prior to landing, neither mentioned it.

Your last day on Coruscant found you cooking yourself dinner. All alone — you watched as the water for the pasta started boiling and tried to remember the last time you had a home-cooked meal. You smiled to yourself as you poured too much pasta into the pot. You could never get it right.

It was a pity you had no one to share it with. Your mind automatically drifted to Rex, as you knew he was probably out with his brothers at 79’s. It was their custom to spend as much time there as possible whenever they were allowed free time. But your smile faltered as you realized — of course they spent their time there. Where else?

* * *

Back at 79’s, Rex was wondering whether Fives had always been this annoying, or if it was just a result of drinking too much. Didn’t he use to enjoy spending time with them, there? Why was he suddenly the subject of so many mean comments about ruining the mood for everyone? Why couldn’t he just get up from the barstool and have a good time? It was their last evening on Coruscant, and Force knew when they would return. If they would return.

Instead of talking, joking around, or dancing, Rex barely even sipped his drink. He stirred the liquid inside its glass — a half-empty glass of Corellian whiskey.

“Alright Rex, there’s obviously something on your mind,” Fives interrupted his momentum of self-pity for the fifth time that evening. Rex didn’t even bother to roll his eyes or deny it at this point. Echo took a seat next to him on the other side, while Kix stood right behind him, encircling him. The only way he could escape them was by jumping over the bar. It didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

“You’ve barely even touched your drink,” Echo chimed in.

Kix reached further, drawing a conclusion. “Which means it’s not something depressing since you would drown yourself in alcohol, but it’s not something exciting either because… you’d celebrate. You’re not angry either, because you wouldn’t have come with us here if you were. You’re confused.”

Rex grunted. “Actually, I might start leaning towards angry soon enough.”

“Come on,” Fives said. “You either join the party or spill it out. And we’ll be able to tell if you’re faking it.”

Kix attempted a less aggressive approach. “We’re all brothers, Rex. We can tell each other anything. Good or bad, we’ll always have your back.”

Rex looked between all three of them, and then at his drink. He downed it before they could say anything more and then sighed loudly. They were right. There was no point in hiding it. Though it was a stupid thing to stress on, perhaps they’d be able to provide a fresh perspective.

“Remember that chrono? The one I told you the locals of that planet gifted me?”

They nodded in unison.

“Well, it wasn’t a gift from the locals. It was from…” he trailed off. Your name got caught in his throat. He felt as if he was about to expose you for acting inappropriately.

“The Admiral!” Fives exclaimed, punching the bar top. “I knew it!”

Rex shushed him, while Echo rolled his eyes.

“So why are you so stressed about it? I’d be honoured!” he continued, now in a lower voice.

“I… I thought it was an Affection Day gift. She made it clear it wasn’t. To cite, she said it ‘was just a sympathetic gesture for a _friend_ ’. And that she hadn’t even realized the date matched.”

Fives’ face contorted into a grimace which only served to embarrass him further. “Ouch. Well, at least you made a friend.”

Rex shot him a glare, to which Fives responded by suddenly becoming fascinated with his glass.

“I mean, he’s right. In a way,” Echo said. “But I reckon it’s too much of a coincidence.”

“What is?” Rex asked.

Echo cleared his throat. “The _date_. I personally don’t believe the Admiral wasn’t aware of the date. And knowing that, why not choose another day for gifting it to avoid confusion? I guess it was on purpose, but since — you know — court-martials exist, the only solution was to brush it off as a friendly gesture.”

Rex wasn’t buying any of it; he had seen the surprise on your face when he had mentioned the date. Kix and Fives, however, were suddenly very intrigued by it.

“He’s right,” Fives said. “I mean, I’ve never seen a higher-up’s face light up that much when talking to some subordinate. Unless they’re delivering some fantastic news,” he added. Rex couldn’t believe they had all simply jumped to that conclusion in such a hurry.

“It’s called being nice. And very… expressive,” he said, dismissing the notion. “I think.”

“Well,” Kix concluded, after exchanging a malicious glance with Fives and Echo. “There’s only one way to find out, right?”

* * *

You flinched when you first heard the notification that someone was at your door. Not that you were particularly flimsy about visitors, but you were about to sit down and enjoy your own pasta by yourself, and it was rather late. It could mean there was an emergency. You were used to people announcing their visits.

So you brushed off your clothes and rushed to the door, only stopping once in front of the mirror for less than two seconds to make sure your hair looked decent and that you didn’t have any food on your face.

When the door slid to the side, you gaped at what you instantly recognized as Rex’s back. He was already turning to leave, but he heard the door and turned to face you. Flustered, he offered you a weak smile.

You frowned, tilted your head a little and asked, “Did something happen?”

You could see the vigor leaving his body for a second, but he then proceeded to shake his head. “No, Admiral. Not really. I just…”

Eyebrows raised, you wordlessly prompted him to go on. He shook his head again, this time with more vivaciousness.

“Nevermind. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have disturbed you at this hour. I don’t know why I got the idea that—”

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” you blurted out, interrupting him. His features relaxed, but yours tensed up. What were you thinking? He was obviously there because something had happened that he believed you should know about. Perhaps he had heard unpleasant rumours at 79’s.

He hesitated, but you couldn’t even process an excuse to take back your words or undo the awkwardness. But then, he straightened himself and finally answered, “I’d be honored. Do you have any place in mind?”

You smiled faintly. “I meant here, now. I made some pasta.”

* * *

Rex blinked a few times, dumbfounded by the invitation. It had taken his brothers nearly one hour of convincing to get him to visit you. And he had given in — even with nothing to bring you but his words. Words that he had lost the moment he rung your doorbell, which was the reason he had swiftly decided it was time to leave before you opened the door.

Now, he stood there in full armour, while you were without your uniform — dressed instead in a long, dark, silk robe to contrast with his white duraplast, your hair a wild mess compared to when you were on duty, and your face all natural. And in his eyes, you had never looked more beautiful. Or terrifying.

And you had just invited him in for some homemade pasta.

* * *

Once inside, you had insisted on him taking off his armour, and he had happily obliged. You figured he would not be comfortable around you in just his blacks, so you offered him a pair of pants he could change in to be more at ease. He walked in while you were arranging the table for two (which hadn’t even been arranged for one — you had been planning to eat while indulging in some holodrama on the sofa).

You moved slowly, but your heart rate could have betrayed you at any moment. Even though he stood still by the doorway, you knew he was looking at you. You felt his eyes follow your movements, yet you were aware that he was most likely just waiting for you to invite him to take a seat. However, you couldn’t focus on anything else but making sure everything was perfect. That you grabbed everything with precision and just the right amount of force. You didn’t want to look clumsy.

Why did you care so much how you looked setting the damn table?

Eventually, you took a step back from the table and gestured towards a seat.

“Are you sure I can’t help with something first?” he asked.

You smiled. “You’re my guest. Make yourself comfortable.”

He hesitatingly drew a chair and sat down, and as you turned around to get the food, you felt his eyes on you again. You feared you would suddenly need a crash course on how to walk. Before sitting down to eat, you pulled out the finest red wine you could find in your cabinet and poured two glasses of it.

The awkwardness lingered on through the first couple of bites. While part of you felt sad that this must have been the first time someone invited him in for a home-cooked meal, there was also nervousness in the air. It was the first time — so it had to be perfect. You had to make it memorable. And you hadn’t exactly prepared the food with guests in mind.

“If you’d like more salt or anything…” you began, gesturing with your fork towards his plate.

He looked up at you, wide-eyed, and then returned to reality. “Oh, no. It’s fine. It’s delicious, actually,” he added the last part as an after-thought, glancing away from you and back into his plate. You realised then that the silence wasn’t caused by him feeling any certain way. He was just too distracted enjoying the food.

You took another bite and decided to pull the band-aid. “So why did you come all this way?” You noticed him pause for a moment. “What was it that you wanted to tell me?”

He took a bite to avoid answering too early. He then took his sweet time chewing it. “It was stupid. I wanted to clarify something, but it was already clearing up as I got here. I had some drinks at 79’s and…”

“And…?”

“What you said about the gift. I kept turning it over in my head.”

Your appetite faltered — not that it managed to grow too much since he had gotten there. Not for the food, at least. But you raised your eyebrows and tilted your head. “What about it?”

“About it being a nice gesture… from a friend to another friend.”

“Well, I assumed it would be a nice gesture,” you explained, playing stupid and purposefully ignoring the last part.

He sighed. “It was, that’s not what I wanted to clarify. It’s…”

You watched him draw in a deep breath, and you realized he wouldn’t continue the explanation. Your shoulders dropping, you let go of the fork and placed both your elbows on the table. “It’s about us being friends. I know.”

Another long moment of silence, where your eyes only met for a split second before you looked away.

“I know it’s not professional. I know I shouldn’t be giving you gifts or inviting you into my apartment to have dinner. If you feel uncomfortable, you can tell me. And I will stop. No hard feelings.”

Lies. You’d omitted that you didn’t really care what you should or should not be doing when it came to him.

“I’m not. In fact, I feel the most comfortable when I am around you, Admiral.”

“Then I see no way our friendship could conflict with our duties. Do you?”

You’d expected a solid ‘no’, or at least a vigorous shake of his head. Instead, he hesitated. Your eyebrows twitched.

“It does, in a way,” he half-heartedly admitted. You weren’t sure you liked where this was going. But he must have noticed your body tensing up, as he quickly added, “Although not in what I would consider a bad way.”

“How so, then?”

“Some days, when I read news of the war on other fronts, the first thing on my mind isn’t ‘How would I have handled this?’, or ‘What can I learn from this?’. The first thing on my mind is you, and how I can’t wait to discuss it with you.” He’d glance around as he spoke, switching from looking at you, to his plate of food, sometimes at yours or at the decor in your kitchen. “There are moments when I am in the middle of the firing zone, and I have to make the decision on whether I should ask for air support. And I find myself secretly wishing you are the one commanding those ships that drop into the atmosphere. Because it means I get to thank you later.”

Your grip tightened around the glass of wine as you brought it to your face and pressed your cheek against it. It was a useless attempt to keep you from blushing, but the coldness grounded you.

“I understand,” you muttered after a few moments of silence. He looked up at you, but you had to avoid it. “When I come up with strategies, I never consider them any good until I pass them through you. I always pay extra attention to what the 501st is up to in briefings. Kriff, my mother got me a chrono and all I could think of was how I was going to gift it to you instead.”

Had you accidentally slipped truth serum into the pasta? What was happening?

You both chuckled nervously at your last confession.

“I have never had the opportunity to call someone a close friend,” you continued, trying to figure out ways to drive the awkwardness away from the conversation. “But I suppose this is what it feels like. I’d rather know I have a friend in you than to be permanently struggling to come up with ways to win the war by myself.”

“Of course you have a friend in me. You will always have.”

While he delivered the line with a smile on his face that you mirrored, a wave of sadness engulfed you. You continued eating, stopping now and then to either comment on rumours and news from the battlefield or on how coincidental it was that both of you had only one day of leave left. Knowing that, you felt as if the Galaxy was prodding you to do something about the craving of your heart, but your mind was quick to quiet that plan. He would have said it by now, wouldn’t he? You had given him all the signs — told him how your thoughts always seemed to lead to him. He would have done something about it, had he thought the same of you.

* * *

Rex wasn’t sure he could hold the food down for much longer. It wasn’t anything physical — and the taste had been exceptional — but he felt as though there was an ever-growing hole in his stomach that threatened to kick everything else out.

What was he doing? He had come all this way, encouraged by his brothers, to let you know how he felt about you. It was the right thing to do. From there, you would have the power to decide whether you should never speak again, or…

Or what?

What options did he really have, but sit awake at night and think of all the what-ifs? You were an Admiral in the Republic’s Navy, and he was a clone commander. Bred for war. Not for figurative earthquakes in his stomach.

Then you’d said it again, that wretched word. _Friend_. _Close friend_ — the culmination of what was possible and realistic between the two of you. It was, at its core, bittersweet. He was honoured you considered him a close friend, but ashamed that he wanted more. He was sitting in your home, eating your food, drinking your wine, and he still wasn’t satisfied.

* * *

It wasn’t hard to revert to a normal dinner conversation after clarifying the matter, but a remnant of doubt still nagged you. Whether he felt the same, Rex didn’t show it.

As you both finished your food, the uncomfortable atmosphere of having left things unsaid grew exponentially. He still had some wine left in his glass, yet you hadn’t touched yours, besides a courteous sip. You didn’t trust yourself that much. Even sober, you could barely hold your feelings in.

The time to clean up the table eventually came, and he had insisted that he could at least bring his own plate to the sink. You let him, but instructed him to leave the glass on the countertop next to it.

Instead of pouring the untouched wine into the sink, you stopped behind him and downed it. He said nothing about it, but looked at you curiously.

“I never said it back,” you commented while placing your empty glass of wine next to his, avoiding his gaze. The gesture brought the two of you even closer.

“Said what back?”

“You told me I would always have a friend in you. I never said you would, too.” You looked up at him and met his confused grimace with a dead-serious gaze. “You have more than a friend in me.”

His grimace faltered, and his gaze matched yours. You’d said it, and this was it. The decision was his. You had both experienced enough awkward moments, one more could hardly make a difference.

But there was nothing awkward about it anymore. Your gaze moved between his lips and his eyes. His did the same. Instead of constantly replaying everything you had ever said to him, your mind was now completely blank, but at peace. You were living every second of that moment. Every heartbeat, every inhale, and every exhale. All you could see was him — his beautiful eyes and his lips that he parted.

You didn’t notice him raising his hand, but you felt it on the back of your neck. His thumb brushed against your ear, but then he broke eye contact for a couple of moments to arrange a strand of hair behind it. You released the breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding in, and he met your eyes again.

He smiled down at you — sadly, in a way, but in his eyes a glint of hope that you were too familiar with. “Then you can have anything you want in me.”

You brought both your hands to his face, tracing your thumbs along his chin. You kept going until your hands were close to the back of his head, and you pulled him in. He closed his eyes, but you felt his grip on you become weaker. You both had the same voices in your heads, trying to convince you that your actions were wrong. But you wouldn’t let those voices win him over. Your own, you could handle. You had ignored them for so long; they had no effect on you.

As your lips crashed against his, you closed your eyes in reaction to the shivers running down your spine. He hummed softly, and something inside you went wild at the sound. You dug your nails into the back of his head and parted your lips to deepen the kiss.

First, you tasted the wine that lingered on his lips. And then, as he gave in and crashed against your lips, you tasted him. His passion, his fervor, and all the words he had wished to tell you until that moment. All the missed opportunities and all the doubts that now held no meaning anymore. No unspoken words or repressed cravings could bring you down from the high you were experiencing as he let go of his hesitation and leaned into you.

His grip on you grew tighter and his humming against your lips more frequent. You were finally his, fully his, body and soul alike. When he pulled away, he did so as slowly as possible, as if afraid he would wake up from a dream. You kept your eyes closed until you felt him press his forehead against yours.

Your hands that had, until that point, caressed his skin with desperation — proof of your own patience having been torn to shreds — fell limply at your sides. He ran his fingers through your hair, and you watched him revel in the moment.

Finally, he opened his eyes and whatever glimpse of sadness in them was gone. But in a split second, you could tell there was something on his mind.

“Before you tell me we shouldn’t be doing this,” you breathed, “let’s just do it one more time.”

He didn’t reply, but he moved his hand from the back of your neck to your front, running his thumb across your collarbone, and then back up to cup your cheek.

You had to stand on your toes to reach him and kiss him again. You felt electrified once again, but it lasted for a shorter while this time — he wasn’t reacting to it. Pulling away, you opened your eyes to see him staring down at you. There was a war raging inside him. But you weren’t so sure of your actions anymore, either. You didn’t want your selfishness to break him. It took every ounce of self-control left in you not to beg him to ignore all rules for one night. Your night.

He cupped your other cheek with his free hand and brought your face closer to his.

“One more time,” he repeated, his voice somehow hoarse and soft at the same time. His lips caught yours in a hard kiss. Not as gentle and timid as he had been until then — he had won the battle against those voices. Your hands reached for the seams of his shirt and just as you slipped your fingers underneath them, before you could register what his skin felt like, an alarm pulled you out of it.

Both physically and mentally.

You retracted your hands, and he took a step back, breaking the kiss. You could hear your heart starting to crack.

The alarm was coming from the living room, where he had left his change of clothes. And his comlink.

He looked between you and the direction where it was coming from, as if waiting for your approval to leave. The corner of your mouth twitched into a smile and you gestured with your head in the direction of the living room. As he took the call, you picked a spot on the floor to stare at blankly. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but you figured out easily what it was about.

A few moments and he appeared at the threshold, fully clad in his armor, his helmet under his arm and a conflicted expression on his face.

“The 501st is being dispatched to Ryloth for an emergency rescue mission,” he explained, and you struggled to offer him a comforting smile. His voice wasn’t soft anymore. It was the tone of a clone commander speaking to his superior.

You made your way towards him and reached out to arrange the collar of his blacks. He had readied himself in such a hurry he hadn’t noticed it getting awkwardly stuck beneath his armor-plate. “Make sure you get some rest on the way there.”

Once you fixed him, you looked up and had to swallow your frustration. He was just as saddened by it as you were, judging by the look on his face. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, but you shook your head.

“You’ll be if you don’t come back in one piece. So make sure you’re well-rested,” you said, ignoring the voice in your head that was raging at whoever needed saving. You started dragging yourself towards the front door of your apartment to walk him out, and he followed.

“I don’t know when I’ll come back. I don’t know when we’re going to see each other again.”

Before pressing the button to open the door, you turned around and pursed your lips. “I understand. But it seems we have kept bumping into each other during this entire war. Perhaps it will stay that way. Perhaps this is where we are meant to be,” you said. “Two entities crossing each other’s paths until it becomes one.”

Your words seemed to bring some comfort to him, at least enough to get him to move again. But before he exited, just as he had walked by you, he stopped once again to look at you, in case it was the last chance he would get. You did the same.

“One more time,” you muttered as you took a wide step towards him. He extended his free arm to wrap it around your waist while yours curled around his neck. And your lips met once again, with the same passion they had the first time.

You didn’t want him to go. You didn’t want it to end. You wanted him to hold you for one minute longer, and then have that minute bleed into an hour, a night, a lifetime. But you had both agreed on it, less than an hour earlier. It wouldn’t affect your duties. Although it already did.

You both ended the kiss with a smile on your faces. He would find his way back to you. This couldn’t be the end of it.  
That night, you found the spare clothes you had given him neatly arranged on the sofa. You finished the bottle of wine by yourself and fell asleep dressed in his scent. You would go back to your ship the next day — hoping, as always, that your next campaign would somehow involve the 501st. But knowing now that he shared the same hope as you.

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a Christmas special. and then a Valentine's Day special. there's a lot of remnants of both. but since I'm a failure at life, have at it. it's March
> 
> it can be read as a standalone fic, as always. no real connection to the first two oneshots, but I still keep them as a series because whatever
> 
> I tried to keep it gender neutral as I have with the other two, but let me know if I screwed up. I re-edited and re-wrote this thing so many times that it's now a complete mess in my head
> 
> Winter Fete is supposed to be the equivalent of Christmas/New Year’s and Affection Day is, well… the most uninspired name I could come up with for guess what
> 
> well back to being punched in the gut by my wips then


End file.
